Welcome, Spring

Dobri trudged along, the wind biting his cheeks. It taunted his eyes and blurred his vision. Beside him, his best friend, neighbor, and closest confidant Milka shielded her eyes from the wind driving tiny snow shards from every direction. Evergreen trees lined the path, rising like sentinels to greet them and usher them ahead. One benefit of the wind was that it had carved away the layers of snow hiding the path that would lead them back to the village and back to their homes.

The two had spent the morning with other children from the village preparing their Mora for the spring ritual tomorrow. Or rather, for the ritual that they hoped would beckon spring to return.

As for spring, it was a term that Dobri and Milka heard spoken about in hushed, reverent tones by grownups. For both knew tales of such a time when other seasons shared in power, but they knew only of the harsh tyranny of winter.

The trees thinned out as they passed by a clearing. Here resided a pond, glistening in the last rays of the afternoon as the sun dipped below the treeline. Dobri and Milka turned their eyes to the forest floor and hastened their limbs forward--and away from the pond as quickly as possible.

But despite all of the warnings, Dobri always found himself stealing a peek. His eyes roved over the surface of the pond for a glance of the stranger that everyone in the village referred to simply as the Witch. And he was usually relieved, though mixed with a sense of disappointment, that he caught sight of no such person.

“It’s her!” Milka’s voice buzzed in his ear. “Hurry!” Milka yanked Dobri by the elbow, dragging him off the path into the woods opposite the pond.

“You looked?” Dobri’s tone was accusatory, but his own eyes darted over the ice, hoping to catch a glance of the sorceress.

“Shhhhh!” Milka forced him down behind a fallen log. She held a finger to her lips and nodded towards the pond. Dobri turned and squelched a yelp of surprise.

If the woman saw the children diving into the woods, she gave no indication. She was no stranger, for she certainly appeared as any other member of the village. Her blonde hair was swept into a braid down her back. Her dress and stockings were of thick wool, just as their own clothes were. Nothing about her seemed any different than any other woman around Dobri’s mother’s age. If she was passing through the village square, Dobri would have taken no notice of her whatsoever.

But here, she was one with the ice. She was gliding upon it on mere boots of deer hide. She had extraordinary balance as she whisked back and forth. Her eyes were closed in tranquility; an expression of worshipfulness made her seem appealing and peaceful to the children. On recalling this later, Dobri would describe her upon the ice as a fairy dancing on the wind. It was the most elegant display of grace and artistry that the children had ever encountered, at that moment or ever since.

“She really must be a witch,” Milka said, her voice low and in awe.

Dobri shrugged, backing away from the log. Something gnawed at his insides, warning him that danger was near. He was about to tell Milka this, when he suddenly let out a shout. Sliding on the ice with the witch was a man with a beard and hair white like wool, white as snow, whose appearance flashed like a bolt of lightning.

Milka clapped a hand over his mouth, but it was too late. The witch halted her song. She captured their eye contact. There could be no mistaking they had been discovered.

The children jumped to their feet and whirled to run away, but roots in the snow caught at their feet, pulling them back to the ground. Speculating on this years later, Dobri concluded that the roots did not act in convenience but by magic.

The witch now stood over them. Dobri’s gaze swept his surroundings but caught no sight of the witch’s friend. She considered them carefully for several moments, before bending down and reaching out a hand.

“My name is Adelina,” she said, pulling up first Milka, then Dobri, to their feet. Both children eyed her suspiciously.

“Here is no magic,” she said, as if reading their thoughts. A smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. She removed her boot and flipped it over, pointing to a thick metal blade molded into a notch. “It’s a skate.”

“Huh.” Milka reached out a hand and gingerly tested the metal underneath her fingers. “And how does it cause you to fly over the ice without falling?”

“Hours and hours of practice!” Adelina let out a laugh, full of mirth and amusement. “Trust me--my skill did not come without countless falls.”

Dobri debated whether he should blab to her about the gossip of the village, but decided perhaps it was something misunderstood as were her skates.

“Do you ice dance to keep it winter forever? That’s what people in the town say.” Dobri felt the redness rising in his cheeks but was glad that he finally spit out what was most burning inside him.

“Winter forever? Is that what you think I want?” Adelina’s tone was rueful, but no anger marked her face. She silently and thoughtfully looked from child-to-child.

“I dance upon the ice, because then I no longer am trapped here in forever winter,” she said at last. She held out a hand to each child, “Come with me.”

It was Milka and Dobri’s turn to look from one to the other before taking her hands. Adelina led them to a tiny garden sprawling behind the cottage. The wooden fence that encompassed the garden languished from the winter elements, several of the boards rotted or missing altogether. Inside, every plant was dead, the remnants of once lively creatures now scattered amongst patches of snow.

She continued to grasp their hands as she drew them to the center of the garden. She took a deep breath, and her voice wavered as she spoke.

“But I do work with magic. That much, your townsfolk may be right about. But it’s not I who works the magic; rather, it’s the magic that works through me.” With that, she closed her eyes. She tightened her grip on the children’s hands, and her lips mouthed silent incantations. Alarm sounded in Dobri’s mind. He closed his eyes, wondering how he could be so foolish, how he might break free from this enchantress and escape.

Upon opening his eyes, he realized that they were no longer in the world, or at least the world as he knew it. Sunshine flickered upon his face, filtering down as if it were midday. He was no longer surrounded by ice and snow and dead things, but an orchard that spread on forever in every direction. Over hills and into valleys. Dark was replaced with light, blacks and grays with greens of every shade.

Standing before them was a man, glittering as the Sun. When he spoke, it was the voice of many waters.

“Welcome, Dobri. Welcome, Milka.”

Dobri held a hand up to block some of the light blinding him.

“You know who we are?” Dobri blurted out, unable to contain himself.

The man huffed, incredulous, but his eyes twinkled as if he was teasing. “Of course, I know you. Before you were born, I knew you.”